


Midnight Sun

by heli0s



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Adoring Steve, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Light Angst, M/M, Spit As Lube, Steve Adoring Bucky, soft smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23430934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heli0s/pseuds/heli0s
Summary: Illuminated only by the window, he’s a midnight flower in Steve’s arms.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 11
Kudos: 65





	Midnight Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Stucky re-write of one of my previous reader-insert fics; I realized I liked it even more than its original, so here it is. Thanks for reading!

He’s a wonder.

Brighter in the night—in those quiet hours when everything is put away—hidden from the pressures of other eyes. Illuminated only by the window, he’s a midnight flower in Steve’s arms, opened up with his secrets revealed.

Steve inhales the sweet scent of him, wants to drink him down like nectar.

Bucky. Bucky. Bucky.

The boy is glowing. 

Breathing soft and slow with his face against Steve’s neck, chest to chest, folded and tucked safely. All his power and gravity rendered small and helpless like a sapling in the shelter of Steve’s hold.

Bucky’s exhausted at the end of each day when he finally lets go of the tension in his muscles, unclenches his jaw and fists. He’s only himself when he gets into bed, letting each plate crumble off his armor, letting himself _be_ himself next to Steve.

And Steve feels guilty for keeping Bucky awake, but he wants to look at him just a little while longer, feel him just a while more. He gets too excited when he sees Bucky like this, all soft and exposed, real again in his bed. There might never be a time when Steve doesn’t ache for him.

“You asleep, Buck?”

Bucky arches a curved no, brushing the tip of his nose to Steve’s chin. He grumbles incoherently until Steve crosses the distance to kiss him, gripping tighter now like Bucky could collapse right in and god, Steve wishes he could. Let him keep every last bit of Bucky forever. Let him take back all those missing years they spent asleep.

Steve savors his lips, caressing the line of his cupid’s bow, tongue flicking over the corners of his mouth, punctuating it chastely like a ritual. Bucky’s hand on the small of Steve’s back moves languidly. It’s appreciative, but not quite inspired enough.

No matter. Steve knows how to coax him out, so he tugs at the waistband of Bucky’s boxers, feels hot breath over his cheek when Bucky stirs as expected and laughs a little, exasperated and endeared.

His voice is slightly hoarse when he chides, “You’re insatiable, Rogers. Won’t even let a guy sleep without getting your dick wet first.”

Steve grins and rucks his own sweats down; Bucky’s not wrong—Steve can’t fucking help it. Seventy years of purgatory and now Steve’s finally got Bucky back. So yeah, he’s insatiable; he wants Bucky all the time. Wants them crawled inside of each other. In their chests, their hearts, their blood until nothing can take them apart ever again.

They slot together comfortably, legs entwined, flush and hot and perfectly fitted. Steve skims a finger over Bucky’s brow and the slope of his nose. Brushes the pad of his thumb over long lashes until they flutter.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart. Let me see you.”

Steve kisses him again and cups his face, taking the opportunity to push two fingers in his mouth, sluicing them up with spit. His other hand travels downward past the plane of Bucky’s abs, finding him half-hard between his thighs.

For all his complaining, Bucky’s become a quick mess now with writhing hips and his pupils blown open when Steve palms him.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Steve says with a slow stroke, watching the way Bucky’s jaw hangs limply. He spends a few more seconds touching the inside of Bucky’s cheek, over his teeth, the tender flesh of his lower lip before his wet fingers find their next destination around Bucky’s waist, then lower, seeking heat. Gently, Steve sinks in slow and easy and steals the first sting away with praise, with his lips on Bucky’s bobbing Adam’s apple as Bucky gasps and keens and whimpers.

He’s perfect. Perfectly warm. Perfectly adored. Perfectly fitted. So, so bright with rosy red blossoming over his cheeks when Steve gets his dick inside of him.

“Fucking hell, Buck.” Steve hisses, “You feel so good.” And Bucky beams at that, flushes all over, a sheen of sweat beginning to coat his skin, glowing the palest of blues under the dim light of a waxing moon.

“Y-yeah?” Bucky’s voice breaks when Steve bottoms out. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open, but he’s trying because Bucky will do anything for Steve, and he’ll do it with a smile.

And Christ, Steve thinks, it’s bewildering how he’ll never get tired of Bucky’s smile—edges pulled up and out—even if he’s quivering, even if it’s swollen and kiss-bruised. It’s the sweetest damn thing Steve’ll ever see—wide and lopsided and beautiful. It could launch a thousand ships. Could blind the whole world.

He leans Bucky back with a splayed hand, just enough to get his mouth on him, marking him up with his tongue then his teeth until it’ll be obvious to everyone tomorrow what the two of them have been up to. That’s okay. That’s good. Steve wants them to look.

He pushes his face into Bucky’s neck, tonguing the ridges of his pulsing throat. He moves to Bucky’s shoulder, to his collar, taking every choked gasp as a command to continue. Bucky’s fingers grasp Steve’s shoulders, his arms, something to anchor him.

“Getting close, Buck? Look at you, baby. You’re a goddamn mess for it, aren’t ya?”

“Jesus, Steve—ease up---” but it’s half-hearted and Bucky can’t even bring himself to finish his plea, jerking into Steve’s hand, pushing back on Steve’s dick, helpless and inarticulate. Steve keeps on, working Bucky to near delirium, doesn’t care if Bucky’s not looking at him anymore—maybe even loves it that he doesn’t. He’s trying to catch his breath, trying to regulate something in his body, trying not to be so easy.

But it’s just Steve. And he’ll be anything for Steve.

Bucky curses quietly, shuddering when Steve licks a particularly sensitive spot—the one behind his ear that makes goosebumps explode down his arms and makes him clench around Steve’s cock like a tourniquet. Bucky’s dick is throbbing and twitching in Steve’s grip, leaking precome down his knuckles.

Steve’s imprints begin to flower lovingly across Bucky’s chest. Adorn him in bruises red and purple, swollen gloriously just like Bucky—dazzling and vivid and _god_ , Steve _wants_ them to see it. Wants them to know what he knows because Bucky’s radiance deserves to be seen. Deserves everything the world owes him. Deserves to leave it blind.

He cries out when Steve grips his waist and thigh, fucking him harder and filling him all the way up until the stars behind Bucky’s eyes whites out his vision. He falls apart right there in Steve’s fist, spilling out in ropes, coming hot and hard on his chest, dribbling all over the bed, both of them wet and covered.

It could be the hundredth time— the millionth time— yet, the sight of Bucky quivering takes Steve’s very soul. His fever-hot grip around Steve’s cock, his face, blissed out and glowing in the aftermath. Two more drives in and Steve’s gone too, burying himself inside Bucky, chanting his name like a prayer.

Steve shakes and then stills. He tugs Bucky closer, marveling at the way his slick body shimmers and glistens a crepuscular miracle. He says I love you. He says you’re beautiful. He licks the sweat from Bucky’s throat like morning dew and the two of them lie in perfect symmetry, foreheads pressed together, trembling in each other’s arms.

From his petal lips, Steve drinks nectar and honey and Bucky’s sweet, sweet love. And then Bucky drinks from Steve, and the bright splendor of his irises blooms radiantly in the dark.


End file.
